American Idol
Bo Bice Is The New Clay Aiken, Part I

Episode Report Card
Jacob Clifton: B | Grade It Now!
Bo Bice Is The New Clay Aiken, Part I
In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description!


Hi, guys! I missed you! Okay, so Seacrest's decided to greet us at Kodak House wearing a blue velvet coat and dressed violently right, to the point where it's gotta be as uncomfortable for him as it is for us. There's Cecile Frot-Coutaz in the credits, but I'm so over her now that I've met Dan Etheridge. You can only love one producer of television at a time, and that's a fact. So Chicago is cheering and singing and there are a billion of them, like usual, and it's an overwhelming wave of people, like usual. I've never met anybody from Chicago, native or transplant, that I didn't like. It's a bit too far north for my innate old-man fear of the cold and generally all weather, but I'd like to invite all of Chicago to come visit me here in temperate Austin. We have several tall buildings, and sporadic organized crime!

Since 2002, Ryan tells us to fill time, over a billion votes have been cast. We see shots of people you might have voted for, such as Carrie and Fantasia and Josh Gracin and Mikalah. Remember them? Remember when Simon was mean to Scott Savol that one time? Remember how Bo Bice would sing songs, and William Hung would not? Remember how American Idol is an "integral part" of American Culture? Remember when Constantine went home and I was so pleased I didn't have much to say about it at the time? Because that's how I remember it.

Remember when Ryan was vastly younger-looking on the cover of EW? More than a half million people have auditioned, and Randy has the most blinged-up watch I've ever seen. Lots of people talk about how they want to "touch people" with their singing. There's like two seconds of Adam Pratt, but I don't even know if I want him involved with this show, moving forward. Remember the collapsing mom of the one guy? This is so lame. Why the filler, show? Ryan then crosses the line, getting hyper with his bollocks about how auditioning for the show is your right as an American and how American Idol auditions are just the same thing as: going to prom, learning to drive, graduating from high school, getting a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, getting manicures weekly with Paula Abdul, and blowing old guys for your own radio show. I don't know about you, but I can identify.

We see a bunch of talented people we won't be seeing again for weeks, and then settle right into the cruel laughter: we see up a gross kicking girl's skirt, we see into the sad mind of a dork singing "Thriller." We see a depressing girl with Trump hair singing "Lean On Me," and I mean to tell you that she has the Trump hair exactly. We see Flawless, who we'll meet in exactly one hundred years from this paragraph -- synchronize Swatches on my mark -- and a dude doing cheerleader dances, a female impersonator, tomorrow night's April Walsh going up the wrong escalator and Garet the cowchild, the older set of twins from tonight who turned out to be identity thieves in a very real way, and Seacrest admits that the auditions are going to be hell and last one million years. He calls this "kissing frogs." I just call it "fucking amazing television, and a privilege to watch."

Seacrest points out that Chicago is windy -- good one -- and he's standing in a convention center with a massive crush of people standing behind him all the way to the horizon and around the curve, who make me nervous, and there's a lot of weather, and they put on a parka and poncho fashion show, and this is exactly the kind of boredom-and-innate-dorkiness-induced bullshit that made me avoid the Austin auditions, and then Seacrest is literally trampled by them running toward the camera. Like that many people wouldn't smell weird anyway -- now you've gotten them wet.

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American Idol




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